


A Bump In The Right Direction

by walviemort



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-24 14:05:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17705666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walviemort/pseuds/walviemort
Summary: Killian likes Robin. Robin likes Killian. They don't think the other one is interested, though, even after spending a night together. But it seems that life has other plans for them when they both come out of the encounter pregnant. Maybe this was just the bump (well, baby bumps) they needed to get together. And starting a relationship while pregnant...well, that's gonna be an adventure.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This sprawled from a prompt sent to a friend of mine that she passed on to me. I've never written for this pairing before but apparently, I have a lot to say about them! Hope you enjoy!

To say that Killian Jones had a crush on Robin Locksley was something of an understatement.

In truth, he’d probably been half in love since he first laid eyes on the man, some two years ago at a party at his sister Regina’s house. Robin’s laughing blue eyes had immediately drawn Killian’s attention and his charming sense of humor sealed the deal. 

They became good friends over time, but Killian never pushed for more than that; he knew Robin was an ex of Regina’s, and while he didn’t rightly care what his sister thought or said about the matter, he was fairly sure that Robin just wasn’t interested.

So, tonight, when they were the last ones at the party and completely drunk, the fact that Robin had decided making out would be a fun pastime was more than he could believe.

And when they spent the rest of the night making love—multiple times, in multiple positions—he thought he must be dreaming.

But when he awoke the next day feeling sore in all the right places, sprawled on a mattress with a familiar dirty blond head beside him, he was more than happy to realize it’d actually happened.

And Robin’s ensuing nonchalant attitude about the previous night also brought him crashing back to reality: it was just a one-night fling.

So he swallowed his pride and played along, acting as casual as possible while redressing and wishing his memories of the event were a little less hazy.

They went back to their normal, easy friendship after that, though maybe with a bit more avoidance than usual on Killian’s end. It was just easier that way.

Until the day several weeks later when Robin called him in a panic, blurting out “I’m pregnant.”

* * *

To say that Robin had a thing for Killian would also be a gross underestimation.

He’d been longing to bury his fingers in the other man’s shaggy dark locks and kiss his supple lips since they first met, but there was no way his ex-girlfriend’s brother would ever cast him a second glance—not in that way, at least. But the first time Killian sang and threw a wide, dimpled grin Robin’s way, he was a goner.

He was mildly ashamed that he required booze to make a move, but he didn’t regret it in the slightest, or their passionate night together. Until morning arrived and he hadn’t a clue how to act, so he played it safe—like it wasn’t all that earth-shattering. (Which it most definitely was.)

Killian did the same, so Robin took that as his answer and moved on. Life somehow went back to normal, as if his world hadn’t been shifted on its axis that night—more than he realized, really. He found himself staying a bit farther away from Killian, and their whole circle of friends, for a while, just so he couldn’t be reminded of what he was missing.

Then he got sick, and truly couldn’t hang out. Or keep food down, or see an adorable animal without crying. It wasn’t until he found himself wandering aimlessly in the diaper aisle of the store that he realized what was going on—and made a beeline for the pharmacy section.

Some hours later, a little white stick confirmed it: he was pregnant. And it was Killian’s. 

He was waiting for the answer on the other end of the phone before he’d even realized he’d dialed it. But what else was he to do but call Killian right away? At the very least, he deserved to know he’d fathered a child; but maybe something else could come of it.

“Hello?” Killian finally answered, tentatively.

“Killian, hi, I…” Oh bloody hell, what was he supposed to say? Out with it, he supposed. “Um, I’m pregnant.”

A long silenced followed his revelation, during which he was sure his heart was going to beat straight out of his chest. Finally, Killian said, “You’re...you’re what?”

“I’m...yeah. Pregnant. I just found out.”

“I...I see.”

Anxiety quickly turned to anger. “That’s all? You just...see?” How was that his only reaction? Or were Robin’s emotions already running haywire?

“I...I’m at work right now, Robin. I can’t talk about this right now. I just...I can’t.” And he hung up without another word.

Robin stared at the now-black screen for a long, long moment, letting the weight of Killian’s statement settle in. He knew Killian well enough to know what he was saying: he couldn’t just talk then—he couldn’t do this. At all.

Everything he thought he knew about Killian was suddenly turned on its head. He thought he was a man of honor, driven by love—he saw the way he doted on Regina, and knew how much they both missed their older brother. Killian was soft and caring. So this? This didn’t make any sense.

But if that was what he wanted, then fine. Robin was more than capable of doing this on his own.

He tossed his phone to the side and instead, placed his hand over his stomach, where he now knew life was growing. “I promise you, little one—nothing and no one’s gonna hurt you, ever.”

* * *

Killian stared blankly at his computer screen for a long, long time after hanging up on Robin. His heart had jumped when he saw who was calling, and then it crashed through the floor once Robin had told him the news.

He didn’t want Killian. He just wanted his baby to have a father. And Killian didn’t know if he could handle just being a baby daddy.

Oh, bloody hell—he was a father. He’d sworn he’d never abandon a child like his own father had done them, and here he was about to do the same. 

No—he wasn’t his father. But he had too much self-respect to not be with someone out of love.

He’d be there for his kid, but he couldn’t commit to Robin if it wasn’t mutual.

Still, though—he was going to be a father. He was...oh, he was going to be sick.

He made a beeline through his office to the bathroom, where the remnants of his lunch made an unexpected reappearance. Robin’s announcement had definitely left him feeling off, so he called out the rest of the day—there was nothing pressing in the GPS system world where they couldn’t do without him for a few hours—and headed home to try to wrap his head around the situation and figure out what to do. (And work up the nerve to call Robin back.)

Except by the time he got home, all he wanted to figure out was what the bottom of a rum bottle looked like. (He knew, of course—that was how they ended up in this position in the first place—but it still seemed like the best option.)

However, that wouldn’t stay down, either. Nor would the pizza he had delivered. Maybe he was more upset by this than he realized. Or maybe he was just getting sick. 

Thank God it was Friday. 

The rest of the weekend passed in something of a fog, though at least it wasn’t liquor-induced. He spent the whole time traveling between his bed and the toilet, losing whatever he managed to get down. By the time Sunday evening arrived, he felt like death warmed over.

He was passed out near the toilet when Regina found him that night. “Killian! Killian, what’s wrong?” she worried, gently shaking him awake. 

“Jus’ don’ feel good…’m fine,” he slurred while lying badly. 

“Fine people aren’t unconscious in their bathrooms. Are you hungover?” She sniffed the air around him as if to answer her own question. 

“No...no rum. Couldn’t keep it down.” Even in his hazy state, he could tell that his voice sounded awful.

Regina gave him a concerned gaze before standing up. “Come on; I’m taking you to the ER.”

He was too weak to protest, so just let her help him up and out to her car. He caught a whiff of the Chinese takeout she’d brought for dinner and it took all his efforts to not be sick again—not like there was anything to come up at this point. 

He was vaguely aware of the ride to the hospital and being taken into the back. Regina knew the answers to all his medical questions anyway, so once he was in a bed, he let sleep take him away again. 

Until he sat bolt upright out of a dead sleep sometime later. Regina was reading something on her phone in the chair next to his bed, and a tugging on his arm drew his attention; he was hooked up to an IV. 

His movement drew Regina’s attention. “How you feeling?” She asked, setting her phone aside. 

“Better,” he murmured, falling back into the pillows. “Thanks for bringing me here. What’d they say?”

Regina was smirking; what the hell did that mean? “Well, you were severely dehydrated,” she started. “Do you know why?”

The way she said it made it seem like he should know, but he hadn’t a clue. “I imagine I picked up a stomach bug.”

“You could say that,” she continued, coming to his side. “Killian...you’re pregnant.”

Regina was smiling, but Killian wondered if she was going mad. “What did you say?”

“You heard right,” she confirmed, placing her hand over his midsection. “You’re having a baby, Killian!”

He swallowed deep; he was pregnant too? His gaze turned to his stomach, where his hand rested next to his sister’s. “I’m...I’m…” He couldn’t even say it. 

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Are...aren’t you excited?”

“I...don’t know if that’s the word I’d use just yet.” Terrified, scared, confused, disbelieving—all seemed to fit better. 

“Oh, come on—you’re gonna be amazing,” she assured him. “I don’t mean to pry, but can I ask: who’s the other father?”

And then it hit him: Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. They were both pregnant? How on earth was he supposed to tell Robin that?

He couldn’t. Not without it seeming like the very thing Robin tried to do to him. 

Fuck. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered, looking away from Regina. 

“Huh,” she said, pulling her hand back. “It’s funny; Robin’s pregnant, too, and he told me the same thing.”

Bloody fuck. 

Regina made sure he got home okay, with doctors instructions on how to avoid any further ER trips, but then he was alone again. 

But he wasn’t, not really. 

Curled up on the couch, he set his hand on his stomach, now all too aware of what was happening inside him. “I promise you, love, you’ll never have to worry about being alone; I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”

* * *

Robin’s calls and texts to Killian continued to go unanswered, so after a couple weeks, he gave up. He knew a rejection when he saw one, and while it went against everything he thought he knew about his crush, he had to let it go and move on. It wasn’t just about him anymore.

A fact that was blatantly shoved in his face rather quickly, when his jeans stopped fitting properly. He rushed to the bathroom and stood sideways to the mirror, and that’s when he saw it: an ever so slight bump. “Hello there, darling,” he cooed, tracing the small curve. He was nearly late to work, he spent so long staring at it. It became a recurring problem as his stomach expanded week after week.

Thankfully, once the initial nausea passed, everything about the pregnancy went smooth. His doctor said everything was normal at his appointments, he had plenty of energy, and he had a great support system, save for the one person he was still missing. (He knew he shouldn’t, but he could at least blame that on hormones.) 

But it was so hard to not ask after Killian during his weekly lunch dates with Regina, who was already referring to herself as the baby’s aunt—something he didn’t dare to confirm or deny. 

And when his ankles were swollen after a day on his feet manning the bar at his pub, he longed for someone at his side to massage them, even if Will, one of his employees, had stepped up to make sure he got regular breaks.

Neither of them, however, could do anything to help him deal with the overactive libido that also came with pregnancy. He definitely had to handle that part on his own, and he couldn’t help it if the memory of a certain someone beneath him—someone with piercing blue eyes and shaggy dark hair—came to mind when he was chasing his own release.

After coming down from the high of orgasm, he’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling and trying to shake thoughts of Killian from his mind. But it was no use. The heart wanted what it wanted. Maybe he’d just have to work up the nerve to confront Killian...but he wasn’t sure he could take that kind of rejection again.

Eventually, he’d either drift off, or be kept up further by the wriggling, kicking thing inside him. It was fascinating, really, feeling the tiny babe moving around and exploring its surroundings, minimal as they were. By the time he hit 24 weeks, he’d definitely outgrown most of his clothes, save for his baggiest shirts and sweats, and it was quite clear he was expecting. But he knew that he and his child were far from done growing, and honestly, he was kind of thrilled for it.

And desperately wished his child’s father could experience some of this, too.

The one true complaint he had regarded his child’s desire for the oddest foods at the oddest hours. He knew the potato chip addiction he’d cultivated over the past several weeks did nothing to help the swollen ankle problem, but the kid wanted what it wanted. And tonight, at 11:42 pm, it wanted dill pickle-flavored crisps.

With no other options, Robin hauled himself back out of bed, tossed on some clothes, and headed out to the 24-hour market down the street. The clerk there was starting to recognize him, and gave a curt nod when Robin entered and made a beeline for the snack aisle.

The closer he got, the more the baby started kicking up a storm. He massaged his belly as he searched for what he needed, murmuring, “I know, I know, darling—Daddy’s looking for them.”

Finally, his eyes fell on the package and he reached for them, but his hand collided with another as he grabbed for the bag.

Wait—he knew the rings on those fingers.

Shocked, he pulled back and looked up, and there he was: Killian, looking equally jarred.

And, as Robin’s eyes drifted down, equally as pregnant.

* * *

Killian was excited to be a father, as complicated as the situation was, but being pregnant...well, he was less enthused about that.

Maybe if he had that classic pregnancy glow about him, he’d be a little more excited about the experience. Maybe if he wasn’t constantly exhausted. Maybe if he didn’t have to visit the toilet after every meal just to lose most of it.

“The sicker you are, the healthier the baby,” Granny assured him as she handed over his take-out order at her diner (grilled cheese with anchovies and apples; for some reason, that was the only thing that would stay down). 

“Then this kid will be immune to everything,” he tossed back.

He didn’t have to make any more visits to the ER, thankfully, but it was some time before he actually put on any weight like he was supposed to. That, combined with the fact that his family carried everything out in front of them, meant that his child made its presence known far sooner than average. 

In a weird way, it was pretty cool. He loved to trace his bump and sing to it whenever he got the chance, and the day he started feeling kicks in response to his voice, he broke down sobbing, and not just because of his roller coaster emotions.

Other than Regina, this baby would be his only family. Their parents were gone, and their older brother had died a while ago. So to bring another person into the world to share his love with was more than a little overwhelming. It was impossible for him to hide the happy tears whenever Regina got excited about feeling her niece or nephew moving around. 

Regina oddly never brought Robin up in their conversations, which had to be a conscious decision on her part, given how close the two still were. But Killian was also cautious to not enquire, lest Regina suspect anything—even though the more his pregnancy progressed, the more curious he was about Robin’s.

Was he this sick, too? How was the baby? Was he showing as much? What was he craving? Did he miss him?

Well, Killian was pretty sure he knew the answer to that one. The first couple weeks after his ER trip, Killian hadn’t been very good about communicating with anyone other than his boss and sister; it was something of a blur. So he knew he’d missed messages from Robin, but he took the fact they’d stopped coming as a sign. 

And yet, the longing didn’t abate. He still wanted Robin. Memories of their shared night replayed vividly in his dreams, along with other fantasies that woke him aroused and panting. Even just the thought of his laugh, his voice, his companionship made Killian want to drive over to his place. 

One night, at around the 6-month mark, such thoughts were flooding his brain to the same speedy tempo his child was keeping as it kicked within. But it was too late to do anything about it...and he was craving something salty. So he instead drove over to the only shop open past midnight, waved a hello at the clerk, and wandered around in search of a snack. 

He had to stop a few times to massage the site of a particularly rough jab from his belly’s inhabitant. “Calm down, love; I’m still searching.” His reassurance didn’t do much good. 

Until he found himself in the chip aisle and set eyes on them: dill pickle crisps. His mouth watered instantly and he made a grab for the bag—at the same time another hand did. 

Killian instinctively pulled back and was about to apologize, but his jaw dropped when he saw Robin staring back at him with a shell-shocked expression. 

“Bloody hell,” Robin finally murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Killian sighed and rolled his eyes at the greeting. “It’s lovely to see you too again, mate,” he answered somewhat cheekily. Like it or not, they probably needed to have a conversation. “Let’s...can we get the crisps and then go somewhere to chat?”

“Yeah, that’s...that’s a good plan,” Robin agreed, unable to take his gaze from Killian’s belly. Suddenly self-conscious, Killian covered it (well, as much as he could) with his hand. 

“Come on.”

* * *

Robin could really only stare as Killian grabbed the chips from the shelf and started back down the aisle, then had to jog to keep up with him. It was still sinking in—Killian was pregnant, too. Apparently from the same encounter. For a moment, he thought it was awfully smug of him to assume the child was his, but Killian’s response didn’t refute the theory.

Wordlessly, he joined Killian at the counter as he paid for the chips and they both ignored the leery grin the clerk was giving them, glancing between the two of them. 

“I ship it,” the usually grumpy man said as he handed Killian his change. Killian just arched an expressive eyebrow at him, grabbed the coins, and headed out.

Robin trotted after, following Killian to his car. “I, uh,” Killian stammered, adorably scratching that spot behind his ear his fingers seemed drawn to when he was nervous. “I can drive us over to your place, if you want.”

“I...yeah, that works.” The ensuing car ride was both awkward and somehow perfect. The weight of the coming conversation hung over them, but at the same time, when Robin closed his eyes, it wasn’t hard to imagine this as a normal occurrence—just two men in love, sating their cravings together. (There had to be some significance to the fact that they had both gone for the same thing, right?)

In no time at all, though, Killian was parked in front of Robin’s apartment building and they were getting out. And then he led them up to his place, directing Killian to the couch, where he joined a moment later with a glass of water for each of them. Killian had already dug into the chips, so Robin took a handful and sat on the sofa next to him.

“So.”

“So.”

Neither was sure who should go first. But just when Robin was about to speak again, Killian started.

“Look, I’m sorry I never returned your calls. And I’m sorry I shot everything down in the first place. It was part due to the shock of your news, and then the shock of my own. But I…” He trailed off, staring at the coffee table, and took a deep breath before continuing. “The thing is, I don’t want to just be together because of the baby. Well, babies,” he corrected, resting his large hand on his round stomach, and Robin was thinking that he’d never seen anything more beautiful. He looked back up and stared intensely at Robin. “I like you, quite a bit and for quite some time. That night we shared together...I treasure it. But I don’t want to be together just because we were too drunk to use condoms. I want to be together because you like me, too.”

Robin sniffled. He hadn’t even realized how emotional he was getting over Killian’s declaration, but given how long he’d been waiting to hear words like that, who could blame him? It wasn’t until his baby gave a sharp jolt to his ribs that he realized Killian was waiting for a response; it was as if the baby was trying to urge him on, or just somehow knew that was its father.

“Killian, I get it,” he started, voice more watery than he’d like. “If it had been the other way around, I probably would have done the same thing. I know I’ve never been very forthright with my feelings, but…” Now it was his turn to breathe, even if Killian had done the hard part of this conversation. “I like you, too. A lot. And I wanted to be with you long before these babies came around.”

Emotional declarations clearly were not made to be done while pregnant, because now Killian was the one with tears brimming his eyes. (Those beautiful blue eyes...he hoped at least one of their kids inherited those.) “D’you mean it? You’re not just saying it because of...this?” Killian asked, gesturing between their midsections.

Robin shifted over, eliminating the gap that had been between them. “Why do you think I made a move on you that night? I wasn’t  _ that  _ drunk, but I definitely used the alcohol as help. I’ve liked you for years; I just never thought you’d look at me that way.”

Killian reached up and cupped Robin’s face. “Darling, I’ve always looked at you that way.” And then he surged forward and claimed Robin’s lips with his.

Robin didn’t hesitate a moment in responding in kind, his hands immediately finding their way into Killian’s (longer, thicker) hair. As incredible as their shared night had been, this was a million times more special—this time, there were no barriers or inhibitions. It was just them and their feelings for each other and the thrill of what lay ahead.

They were just starting to get lost in the kiss when another stabbing kick struck him hard, making him jump back. “Really? You just had to interrupt, didn’t you?” he playfully scolded his belly, massaging the now-sore spot high on his stomach.

But when he looked up, Killian was doing the same thing in the same spot. “It’s like they knew,” he chuckled, cradling his belly and glancing over at Robin’s. 

It was almost instinctive—Robin was moving before he realized what he was doing, and his free hand was hovering over Killian’s bump. “Can I…?” he asked, suddenly hesitating; he hated when people (usually drunk customers) tried to make a grab at him. 

“Only if I can, too,” Killian replied, grinning.

It did feel a little weird at first, having another person’s hand on his belly (well, other than Regina, which he had to assume was the same case for Killian). And it was equally odd feeling a kicking babe that was inside someone else. 

But when those first taps hit his palm from within Killian—and he could feel the simultaneous ones against Killian’s hand—he couldn’t hold back the happy tears anymore.

“Daddy’s here, little one.” “Your Papa is right here, love.” They spoke at the same time to the other’s belly, then dissolved into laughter right away.

“Well, at least we won’t be fighting about that,” Robin quipped. “Papa?”

Killian shrugged and blushed. “It’s what my mum called her father.”

“It’s perfect. You’re going to be a brilliant papa.”

“And you’ll be an amazing daddy.”


	2. Chapter 2

Embarking on a relationship when both parties were mere months from giving birth was definitely a unique adventure, but despite its challenges, they couldn’t be happier. 

Killian spent that first night at Robin’s, where they were finally able to be the balm to each other’s out-of-control libido, and fell asleep with the other’s bump under hand. The next morning brought some of the awkwardness of the morning that followed their first tryst, but either Killian felt bolder, or he could blame it on the hormones—he put an end to that by kissing Robin softly, once on the lips, and then on the curve of his stomach. Granny gave them a curious smile when they walked into the diner later that morning (after another round or two) but said nothing.

Things started a bit slow, as they always do—neither one sure which lines to cross when, given the weight of the situation (quite literally; Killian had just stopped looking at the scale, even though he knew he was supposed to get heavier and was glad that it meant his nausea was abating). And yet, they still managed to spend each evening together, unless Robin was working—in which case they met for lunch, or breakfast, or something. Now that they’d truly crossed a bridge when it came to togetherness, Killian found he couldn’t go too long without being near Robin, and the feeling seemed to be mutual.

Regina, smug older sister that she was, exclaimed “Called it!” when they finally broke the news to her of their relationship a couple weeks later. “I thought I saw you two disappear into that room that night.” Thankfully, she didn’t lord it over them long, and quickly shifted into overbearing aunt mode (“Someone has to!” she argued.)

It only took a few weeks of alternating whose place they crashed at—and for Killian to quickly realize how empty his bed felt without Robin in it, despite the increasing number of pillows he needed to support his growing bump—before they decided to just move into Killian’s; it was larger, and closer to Robin’s bar. And they knew they’d want to be together after the babies came; why not start now?

* * *

Of course, regardless the fact that Robin’s feelings toward Killian were growing in proportion to his waistline, moving in together was its own obstacle.

The physical ones were overcome with the help of friends and family—Regina, Will, and his girlfriend Belle—given that, at 28 weeks and entering their third trimesters, neither guy could lift a ton (though they helped where they could). 

He did feel a fair bit of trepidation when the first box left his apartment, and then even more when he closed the door on the now-empty space for the last time. It wasn’t that he had many fond memories there or anything, except for maybe a few great parties. (Though the most memorable had been at Regina’s and he’d be damned if he ever let her move.) 

It was just the finality of literally closing one door and opening another—another that led to a currently empty room in Killian’s, with nought more than some boxes, a couple dressers waiting to be assembled, and a few outfits hanging in the closet.

“You alright, love?” Killian’s voice brought Robin out of his thoughts as his boyfriend came up to his side, resting a hand on his lower back. His brow was furrowed with concern when Robin looked up.

“Aye, darling—I will be. It’s just...all becoming a little more real.”

Killian smirked, cutting a dimple into his thick ginger scruff (that, thanks to pregnancy, now got ridiculously long if he went without shaving so much as a day—and he loved it). “I know the feeling. But if you think it’s too soon, or you’re having second thoughts…” he started, trailing off. Robin could guess at the out Killian was giving him, but the fact that he was offering just cemented his decision.

“Not at all. Let’s get get a move on.”

He locked the door, grabbed Killian’s hand, and headed off onto their next adventure.

Which apparently was the mental side of moving in together: not just findinging space for Robin’s stuff in the mix, but just living with another person—and another person’s habits—when he was so used to being on his own for so long.

Killian’s Navy background showed itself in the neat arrangement of his closet and drawers, the kitchen cabinets, even under the bathroom sink. It was easy for Robin to find a home for everything but maintaining it would be harder, he knew. (Though perhaps, once he got to the nesting stage, it might get a bit easier—until the babies arrived and inevitably threw everything into chaos.)

The other aspect of that was seeing a side of the other they’d never seen before, whether it was just in the quiet moments during the day, or seeing the glimpses of each other’s past. Killian cast a very curious eye to the collection of medals Robin brought from his amateur archery days, and Robin quite liked the look of those leather pants Killian dug out of the closet while making room for Robin’s stuff, even if Killian swore they’d never fit him again.

“Then we’ll just have to find you new ones,” Robin decided, while promptly pouncing on Killian. He got to do that now whenever he wanted, and that just might have been one of the biggest perks. Try as he might, he had a very hard time keeping his hands of Killian and that beautiful bump. God, he was gorgeous.

Given that this was such an unconventional situation—for a couple to both be expectant, especially from the same encounter—they were foregoing most of the conventional pregnancy traditions. No book would truly be able to provide guidance and classes could only take them so far. But the one thing Robin insisted on was tracking their bellies.

He put up a piece of paper on the wall of the nursery, and each Sunday, they took turns tracing the outline of the other’s stomach. Just looking in the mirror every day, it was hard to notice the changes; having a visual representation of it was something special. He was curious to see if the outlines would cross paths—the paper was only so wide. But mostly, he loved the chance to trace the curve of Killian’s belly and feel their child moving inside.

Killian tried to tease him about it, but it was always half-hearted—and he couldn’t say much when he spent just as long tracing and loving on Robin’s bump.

“I just still can’t believe all this is real sometimes,” he murmured, palm resting over where Robin’s baby was kicking.

Robin was doing the same with Killian’s child. “I know, darling—me too.”

* * *

As fate would have it, they’d already been going to the same doctor, so Robin shifted his appointments to directly follow Killian’s. Regina had gone to the first one with Killian, but he’d been on his own for the next few; having someone with him—more specifically, the father and his partner—made the experience all the greater, and he could tell Robin felt the same. Stepping into the role of expectant father when he himself was also expecting was a unique role to be in, but he loved it—even if he was running the risk of dehydration again after their first shared appointment, from crying over not one but two sonograms.

But now, he now had someone else to look after him. Not that he was incapable of taking care of himself, obviously—he was rather used to it, both in the pregnancy and in life—but it was nice having someone to rub his back when he went toe-to-toe with the toilet at 3 am, and to make sure he was getting enough liquids. And he was more than happy to massage Robin’s swollen ankles after a long shift at work.

They discovered that they somehow had all the same cravings, so they were now on a first-name basis with Leroy at the market. Dill pickle chips (and all other varieties), pistachio ice cream, anchovies on pizza—all the weirdest combinations, but at least they didn’t have to worry about grossing the other out. They also desperately craved beer, but, alas, couldn’t partake. (Though they did develop an appetite for sarsaparilla.)

It was the kind of partnership he’d always wanted to have. It was nothing like he’d imagined, to be sure, and he often wished the tiny being inside him would stop interrupting them in one way or another (whether it was because of nausea, hunger, kicking, or just the fact that his baby bump physically interrupted their intimate times). But they just...clicked. It wasn’t a chore to be together—it was the most natural thing in the world.

Killian’s insecurities still tended to flare up, of course, but Robin always knew how to set him at ease. Somewhere around 34 weeks in his pregnancy, Killian flopped down on the bed, exasperated. He was just trying to get dressed for work, but his paternity trousers wouldn’t fit over his hips today and none of his shirts would button, straining against the ball that was now his stomach (don’t even get him started on the stretch marks). His ankles had caught up to Robin’s in the swollen department, but it didn’t much matter as he couldn’t see them anyways. And the baby was happily kicking and punching his bladder almost constantly, so even though he’d just used the facilities, he felt the urge to go again.

He felt huge, cumbersome, and ugly. There was no way Robin wanted him for him anymore; despite all he did, surely he was just sticking it out for the children. Killian turned his gaze to his still-sleeping partner, looking like the perfect image of pregnancy and not like the whale that Killian surely resembled. And they still had nearly two months to go. What would he look like then?

Killian was always prone to dramatics, but even more so now, especially as he threw himself backwards on the mattress and let the tears come. 

He tried his best to keep it quiet and wallow in his misery alone, but it didn’t take long for the mattress to shift and for Robin to appear above him.

“Killian, what’s wrong? Is it the baby?” His brow was furrowed with worry as he stroked Killian’s cheeks, attempting to dry the tears.

“No, the baby’s fine—it’s me. I’m enormous and hideous and I don’t know how you can even stand to look at me.” He turned his head and threw an arm over his eyes; if Robin was going to take this chance to leave, he didn’t want to see it.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?”

“Just...look at me, Robin.”

“Yeah, I’m looking right now. Have you seen me lately? I think there’s a similarity.”

“No, there’s not. You have exactly two stretch marks and all your clothes fit.”

“I have seventeen stretch marks, for your information, and if my clothes fit, that’s because I went out and bought massive shirts as soon as I got the positive test. As you well know, my own clothes haven’t seen the light of day in months and probably never will again.”

Killian just scoffed. “There’s no need to placate me, love. Just leave me be.”

“Hey.” Robin’s voice sounded almost angry; he’d never heard him like that before, and had to hazard a look, peeking out from under his arm. “I know you’ve got your vanity all wounded at the moment, but if you think that my attraction to you was just based on appearances, then you’re sorely mistaken, Killian Jones. You’re caring, sweet, talented, funny, and all I’ve ever wanted in a partner. And if anything, this,” he continued to rant, placing his hand on the apex of Killian’s belly, “has just made me all the more attracted to you physically—or have you already forgotten the other night in the shower?”

Killian immediately blushed at the memory, the details flooding his mind without thought: the hot water only adding to the steam between them; Robin’s careful, wandering hands exploring every inch of his body, even the extra ones; how Killian was barely able to keep any sort of control once Robin took his length in his mouth, forcing Killian to brace one arm on the wall and the other around his belly; and eagerly returning the favor as the shower continued to rain down on them. 

That night was more the norm than the exception, even with libido gradually being replaced by fatigue as they got closer to the end of their pregnancies. But seeing Robin round with his child was truly arousing, even if they were continually working out the best ways to be intimate with their growing bumps. Even now, when Robin was shirtless and wearing pajama pants, it was doing all sorts of things to Killian.

“Judging by what’s going on in your underwear, I can tell you’re remembering,” Robin went on, smirking now. “Come here,” he beckoned, holding out his hands to Killian, and he took them. With surprisingly little effort, Robin pulled him up to sitting, then held his gaze. “This is what we’re going to do: you’re going to call off work today, and we’re going to head out to go shopping and find some clothes that flatter your wonderful, delectable form—especially with that photoshoot your sister is insisting on coming up.” Killian chuckled through his tears; they’d turned down her offer of a baby shower but, typical Regina, she wouldn’t take no for an answer on a dual paternity shoot. “We might even slip a massage in there, because lord knows we could both use one. But first,” he added, leaning in, “I’m going to show you again just how much I adore you, and I won’t stop until I know you believe me. How does that sound?”

Killian sniffled and grinned in response, only just realizing that his tears had become happy ones. He squeezed Robin’s hand and answered, “That sounds perfect.”

* * *

Other than the rough days—which they both had—Robin had no true complaints as their pregnancies progressed. And how could he? He had a stable job, a solid relationship, and all signs pointed to two healthy babies.

Well, okay, he had one complaint—the ridiculous paternity photo shoot. Even if he was dressed comfortably and had Killian at his side, he still thought it was just a tad silly.

“You’ll be so glad to have the pictures later!” Regina insisted that morning as she drove them out to the park they’d be shoot at.

“You better be right,” Robin threw back, both of them ignoring the string of muttered curses from Killian.

A few hours later, he hated to say it, but she had been right. Oh, they had done all the cheesy poses first—back-to-back, bump-to-bump, the silly hearts on the belly ones—but then split off to do their own shoots, to which Killian had vehemently protested. 

“You’d best believe that I’ll be returning this favor should you ever have children, Regina,” he’d complained.

“I would fully expect you to,” she casually tossed back and continued to direct (and possibly flirt with) the photographer, Mal.

Robin didn’t know if it was the light, or the setting, or the realization that they were merely weeks away from having their whole lives changed, but something different struck him that day as he watched his beautiful boyfriend posing with their unborn child. He’d been thinking it for a while, but had been scared to actually say the word when they were both already on constant emotional roller coasters—who only knew what that could have done to Killian.

But as he felt his heart rate pick up as he just watched the gorgeous scene before him, the life within seemed to pick up on the feeling and start kicking up a storm.

“I know, my darling,” he whispered to his bump, placing a hand over where his child was moving most. “I love him, too.”

* * *

Killian would never admit it, but he was kind of glad Regina had forced this photo shoot on them. It would certainly be a good keepsake of this strange and exciting time in their lives, and it was a gorgeous spring day—perfect to be outside.

Maybe it was the sun, or the warm breeze, or the scent of the blooming flowers giving everything an ethereal feel, but as he watched Robin pose for his own shoot while resting on a bench nearby, a sudden, simple thought overtook him: “I love him.”

He did. He truly did. There was no one else he wanted to go on this journey with—no one else he could ever imagine sharing a life with. He knew the road ahead was going to have bumps (though hopefully none like the ones they were currently sporting, at least not for a while), but he knew that they could overcome them—together.

As if reading his thoughts, his baby started to wriggle like crazy. “Is that an agreement, love?” he murmured to his belly, then smiled as the movement intensified. “I thought so.”

* * *

The closer the due date got, the more they traded off being nervous and excited. A healthy combination of both reigned at their 38-week appointment. 

To date, they’d been having their own little contests of sorts—like who would gain the most weight (Killian, once the nausea finally passed), whose feet would change the most (Robin’s, evidenced by the fact that he was wearing Killian’s larger shoes), whose belly would drop first (they both happened on the same day), or who could last longest before crying during Disney movies (a draw again). They were waiting to see who would have the largest belly circumference, who would go into labor first, and who would have the biggest baby, but hopefully the doctor would give some indications as to who might win those.

As they suspected, Killian outnumbered Robin in girth by a few inches—yet estimates put Robin’s baby slightly ahead in weight, if only by a few ounces. “I’m sure mine will catch up,” Killian commented matter-of-factly. “There has to be some reason my belly is larger; he or she is just saving up for a last-minute sprint.”

“Oh, is that it? It has nothing to do with the mega-stuffed Oreos you discovered last week?” Robin quipped playfully.

“Oi! You love them, too!”

As far as who might win the race to finish line, though, the doctor couldn’t say. “You’re both dilated a couple centimeters, so you’ll probably go a bit before the due date, but it’s impossible to know who will be first.”

“If you were betting, who would you put money on?” Robin asked. Their doctor, Victor, was also a close friend and was well aware of the pool Regina had going.

“Both of you, if she’d let me.”

After dinner with Regina (who was displeased to find out the inconclusivity of Victor’s assessment but was happy to inform them that Killian had the edge in the pool) and marking the belly progress in the now-furnished nursery (the lines started crossing a few weeks ago), they were relaxing at home on the couch, sharing a sarsaparilla. They sat hip-to-hip and were leaning into each other (or just weighing down the middle of the couch so that they fell towards one another), enough so that their bumps were connected, too. The babies were squirming and seemed to be fighting each other, even though they were in separate wombs. But feeling his other child press against his belly was a singular experience Robin wouldn’t trade for the world, even if it meant the one inside him was constantly hitting his kidneys.

“I can’t tell if they’re going to love each other or hate each other,” Killian assessed, watching the almost alien-like movement within their bellies. 

“Probably both,” Robin answered as his baby seemed to do a somersault. “They’re definitely going to be partners in crime, though.”

“Do you wish we’d found out the genders?” Killian tucked his head onto Robin’s shoulder as he asked, then rested his palm on the top of his stomach.

“No; I’m happy with it being a surprise. The rest of this was; may as well continue it.”

“That’s fair.” Killian grew quiet, but Robin could tell he was lost in thought.

“What is it, darling?”

“It’s nothing, just…” He trailed off, but then seemed to find the words he needed. “I know at the beginning of all this, I said I didn’t want to be together just for the babies. But now, I don’t think I can picture this any other way. Maybe they were meant to bring us together; to bring down our walls.” He swallowed, and then continued. “Regardless, I’m so happy to be doing this, and with you, and I can’t wait for whatever comes our way.”

Robin had no words; anything he would have said would just be a repeat of Killian’s. So he just reached over, lifted Killian’s chin off his shoulder, and kissed him passionately. And then again. And again, shifting in his place because he couldn’t easily straddle his boyfriend.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Killian finally panted when they paused for breath, “but what does that mean?”

“It means I feel the exact same way,” Robin breathed back. “And that I have an idea for another challenge.”

“What’s that, love?”

He smirked. “You know how there are...ways...of bringing on labor? Spicy foods, exercise, certain kinds of stimulation,” he explained, reaching for Killian’s chest and grazing his sensitive nipple through the thin cotton of his shirt. 

Killian shivered in response. “Aye, I see what you’re saying love. Not just a race to the end, but see who can get the other one there?”

“Something like that.”

“You’re on.”

Though nothing came of their activities that night—other than plenty of giggles as they both maneuvered their bellies around each other—they weren’t discouraged in the slightest. The next morning became a contest to see who could withstand the most jalapenos and sriracha on their eggs. An afternoon stroll had them seeing who could walk the farthest without needing a rest. And they enjoyed some of the most pleasurable evenings they could remember—until they passed out from exhaustion, of course.

Robin was reminiscing on the previous night—when his view of Killian was blocked by his bump but his nerves were exceedingly aware of him and what he was doing—while leaning against the bar during a lull on his last night of work. He’d insisted on sticking it out until he couldn’t, and while he couldn’t move with much speed, he could still mix drinks just fine. But that didn’t stop his coworkers from hovering.

They were nearby, having their own conversation, as he was reclined with a hand on his bump. But suddenly, his entire stomach clenched under his palm. He was well-acquainted with the feeling of Braxton-Hicks contractions—they’d been intermittent all day—but this was considerably stronger, drawing a brief moan from him.

“Robin? You alright?” Will asked, in front of him in an instant.

“Ask me that again in 10 minutes,” he answered after taking a deep breath.

“Do I need to call Killian?”

“Not just yet.”

He tried to get comfortable again when nothing else immediately followed, and was in the middle of mixing a shot when another one hit, making him drop the glass and reach for the edge of the bar.

Will was at his side. “It’s only been 8 minutes, mate; want me to call Killian now?”

Robin could only nod. “Yeah. It’s time. And tell him that I won this one.”

* * *

After he got the call from Will, Killian had never driven faster in his life; his old Chevelle had no idea what was going on. But the child within him seemed to, and was kicking something fierce against the steering wheel. As anxious as Killian was for Robin, it seemed this little one was eager for its sibling to arrive. 

He just hoped this one would stay put long enough—and prayed that it was just false labor he’d felt on the way out to the car.

No matter what, his world was going to change over the next several hours.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last one! Thanks for reading!

When Killian burst through the door of the bar not 10 minutes later, Will was getting Robin through another contraction; Robin hoped he hadn’t broken his friend’s hand with how hard he was squeezing. The next thing he saw when he opened his eyes after it was Killian, kneeling down in front of him. “You ready for this, Daddy?”

“As much as I’ll ever be, Papa.”

“Let’s go have a baby, then,” he said, grinning, and placed his hand on Robin’s stomach. Will helped Killian stand, and then Killian helped Robin up, placing a kiss on his temple. “Just don’t let your water break in my car, eh?”

“I’ll try,” he chuckled back.

The trip to the hospital was a blur, and so was everything that happened once they got there. But eventually, he found himself in a bed, strapped to all sorts of things, with Killian holding his hand in the chair next to him.

“Breathe, love—just breathe,” he calmly said through each contraction, never letting his grip against Robin’s fade. Robin tried to be careful when he caught Killian wincing as his contractions got closer together, but he only had so much control when his midsection felt like it was both collapsing on itself and about to explode. 

Finally—blessedly—Victor said the best words he’d heard since he arrived at the hospital. “Let’s get you to delivery; it’s time.”

“You’ve got this,” Killian murmured as he stood and pressed a kiss to Robin’s temple. “I’ll catch up to you,” he added, smiling, as they started to wheel Robin out.

“Maybe if you hustle, you’ll be next,” Robin quipped back over his shoulder.

* * *

Robin couldn’t see the half smile Killian gave as he was taken to Delivery—but Victor did. 

“ARE you next, Killian?” he asked quietly, giving him a visual once over. 

“I’ll be fine; worry about Robin,” Killian said, waving him off, just as another contraction took hold. They were still decently far apart, he thought—no cause for concern just yet. He had to be there for Robin and their other child first—he had to.  

He started to waddle out of the room to follow his love, but he’d barely reached the door when Victor stopped him. 

“At least let me get you a wheelchair?” the doctor offered. 

Killian sighed; that did sound better, or at least faster. “Alright.”

* * *

Any relief he had a moving to the next stage of labor quickly dissipated—Robin found that pushing was several times more arduous. But once Killian arrived back at his side, he knew he could get through it. 

“You’re doing brilliant, love—you can do it; keep going.” A constant stream of affirmations left Killian’s lips and kept him going, even when he was sure the baby was stuck. 

“Almost there, Robin—just a couple more pushes,” Victor called out from what was probably a gruesome scene, if the sight matched what it felt like. 

Killian was practically leaning on the bed next to him. “So close; we’re so close, love,” he murmured. 

And in no time at all—or a seemingly endless moment—there it was. There he was—their son. 

“It’s a boy!” Victor declared, and brought the slimy, squirming infant up to Robin’s chest. “Congratulations, Daddy.”

Oh, he was perfect. His lungs certainly worked fine, as his screaming indicated, and he had a fine mess of dark hair paired with a darling face. But he soon calmed once he realized he was in his father’s arms. “He’s beautiful,” was all Robin could say. 

“Just like you, love—you were brilliant,” Killian said, pressing a kiss to Robin’s head and then their son’s. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Robin replied, finally looking up at the man he loved—and finally sure enough to say it. “I lo—love? What’s wrong?”

The elation on Killian’s face quickly morphed to pain and he hunched in on himself. 

“Killian, what is it?” His hormones were still a mess from birth—he was not ready to deal with whatever was going on. 

After another painstakingly long moment, Killian relaxed and stood up, but his expression was still strained. “I...I think...it looks like...my water just broke.”

Robin felt his jaw go slack. It had been a possibility, but one he really hadn’t considered—they were seriously about to give birth in succession?

In the background, he heard Victor go “Goddammit, Killian,” and start giving orders, but Robin tuned the rest out and grabbed Killian’s hand.

“Why didn’t you say something?” 

“You were my priority. Both of you. I had...I had to look out for you.”

“Well, now it’s my turn to look out for you, okay?”

* * *

The chivalrous side of Killian wanted to protest, but his body—or, rather, the thing that was currently trying to escape it—was louder. 

“Alright, But not until you’re done here.”

After watching what Robin has just gone through, paired with his own increasingly strong contractions, his nerves were building. But Robin’s hand was still steady in his, even as the doctors took the baby and started to wrap things up on his end. 

Another contraction hit and it was Robin’s turn to coach him now. “Breathe now, in and out—that’s perfect, darling.” In truth, Killian was still getting used to having someone take care of him. Looking after himself or someone else came naturally; being that vulnerable himself was taking some getting used to. 

He couldn't help but collapse in the wheelchair after the contraction passed, his legs giving out after so long on his feet at Robin’s side. 

“Okay, someone get him to an exam room, stat,” Victor’s voice shouted, and then he was in front of Killian. “I’ll get Robin to you soon, I promise; but we’ve gotta get going on you now, okay?”

Killian threw a worried glance at Robin, who gave him a reassuring look and nod. “I’ll be right there.”

“Alright; let's do this.” He didn’t sound confident, but he didn’t have much choice, did he?

* * *

Robin felt...he had no idea, really. Excited, drained, relieved, empty, tired—so tired. He felt one part of his heart follow his son out to the nursery and the other go with Killian, so he wasn’t quite sure what he was left with as the doctors sorted out his afterbirth care.

A large part of him just wanted to sleep. But the rest of him, desperate to be there for Killian like he’d been there for him, wouldn’t even consider it. That said, he knew he wasn’t capable of being at his side in the same way. “What am I gonna do, Victor?” he had to ask.

“Well, where would you rate your pain, on a scale of 1 to 10?”

“About 8.23, but decreasing.”

“Alright. We’ll get you on some mild painkillers and then someone is finding you the comfiest, tallest chair they can get. And then we do this all again. You ready?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Good enough.”

* * *

Killian barely even saw the face of whoever was wheeling him into the room Robin had been in earlier, but thanked them as they helped him into the empty bed on the other side of the room; he wondered now if Victor had done that on purpose. 

For a minute, it was just him and the baby, still moving around inside even as it was about to truly enter the world. “Not much longer now, love,” he murmured, holding his belly tight. He had to admit, he was going to miss that part a bit—having the baby so close. But that was pretty much the only thing he’d miss. 

Another contraction hit; they were less than five minutes apart now, but growing closer together quickly. He knew he still had time, but he hoped Robin, or at least Victor, would come in soon.

A knock on the door sounded, and the visitor didn’t wait for an invitation in—Regina. He’d nearly forgotten that he’d called her when they arrived. “Hey, what’s going on? Where’s Robin?”

Killian tried to sit up a bit, but his belly blocked him, so he just relaxed; that was probably better for him anyway. “He’s fine; they’re finishing him up now. It’s a boy,” he said reverently.

“I have a nephew?” Regina whispered, tears coming to her eyes. “Oh, that’s so exciting!” she added, giving Killian a cautious hug. She wiped her eyes when she pulled back. “Hopefully we don’t have to wait too much longer on this one, then; did Victor make you lie down after refusing to leave Robin’s side?”

“Er, something like that,” he replied, scratching nervously behind his ear. “Actually, I’m—”

“Alright, let’s see how far you’re dilated. Hey, Regina,” Victor said nonchalantly as he barged in.

Regina gasped as Victor started his exam. “Oh my god—you’re in labor, too?” 

“It would appear so.”

Regina’s excited squealing hurt his ears, but didn’t seem to bother Victor. “Well, you’re not gonna be in here long; maybe another couple hours to go,” he announced. “I’m off to take a power nap; see you soon.” He turned and left promptly after his assessment, muttering something about overtime and vacation days.

“Ahh, this is so exciting! Is there anything I can do for you? Does Robin know? Oh my god, I can’t—I just can’t.”

“Calm down, sis,” he told her, almost chuckling (except that kind of hurt at the moment). “Just...take a seat and let me hold your hand when the next contraction rolls around.”

“I can do that,” she said softly, pulling a chair closer to his bedside.

She got him through a few more before Robin was wheeled back into the room. The bed was barely locked into place before he was trying to get out of it, but the nurses had to press him back down.

“How are you doing?” he settled on asking.

“As best as can be expected when your contractions are barely 4 minutes apart. You?”

“I’ll be better with some pain relief...and when I can hold your hand.”

Killian blushed at the declaration, which was only furthered by Regina’s comment  of “You two are freaking adorable.” Thankfully, someone helped Robin into the wheelchair shortly after and moved him to Killian’s bedside.

Again, Robin’s hand found his, and almost all was right with the world; he desperately wanted to hold his son, and he knew Robin did, too, but his love never left his side—not until Victor declared that it was time.

“I’m right behind you,” Robin assured him, and they went and did this all over again.

* * *

Regina took the handles of Robin’s wheelchair and followed behind Killian as quick as they could, until they reached the door of the delivery room. 

“You’ll take care of him, right?” she asked, sounding uncharacteristically nervous.

“You know I will, Regina. But will you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“Go check on my son?” He was still getting used to saying that; every time continued to fill him with joy.

“With pleasure,” she answered, grinning. “Now go on—meet the next one.”

* * *

Being back in the delivery room but in the other spot was giving Killian the oddest sense of deja vu. Especially once Robin arrived, and his encouragements sounded so similar to the ones Killian had just been giving him. 

But the constant pain from his abdomen and pelvis made sure he stayed focused on the present; god, it hurt so much—how much longer?

“Okay, Killian: start pushing.”

“Gladly,” he retorted, though he couldn’t say that felt any better. Only knowing what would come at the end was any motivation.

It seemed like he was pushing forever; had it been this long for Robin? He had no clue, but Robin didn’t waver. “You’re doing brilliantly, darling; keep it up.”

After what felt like an eternity, finally, the pressure released, and Killian could do nothing but fall back against the pillows. Another cry filled the air, just hours after the last, and then the babe who had spent so much time wriggling on the inside was now squirming in the cold air. 

“Congratulations, Papa—it’s a girl.”

Killian’s arms immediately went around her when Victor placed her on his chest and oh, she was perfect. Big blue eyes, ten fingers and toes, and the sweetest face he’d ever seen. He wasted no time in pressing his lips to her head, not caring that she still needed to be cleaned—she was still the most beautiful thing he’d since...well, since their son.

“You did it, Killian. You did amazing.” He felt more than saw Robin’s lips against his cheek, and may have swooned when he did the same to their daughter. (Or maybe everything was catching up to him; it was hard to say.)

“Thank you, love—there’s no way I would have gotten through it without you.”

“Not even Hades himself could have kept me.”

Killian used his free hand to grab Robin’s scrub top and pull him down for a proper kiss. Though it may have been too soon for that, given that they both came out of it a bit lightheaded.

But he didn’t care. This was the man he loved, and after the day they’d had, no one could keep them apart any more. “I lo—”

“Okay, I hate to break up the sweet moment,” Victor interrupted, to Killian’s chagrin. “But that one is almost asleep on his feet,” he said, pointing at Robin, then at Killian, “and this one still has a bit to go.”

“I’m fine; I’ll stay for the rest,” Robin insisted, then comically yawned.

“Go, love; I’ll be fine,” Killian assured him. “I’ll see you in a bit?”

“O...okay.”

One nurse wheeled Robin away and another took the baby to clean her up. Killian finally let out an exhale that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as everyone else got him sorted. It was mindboggling how much his life had changed in the past 6 hours, but he almost couldn’t contain his elation, and a few happy tears slipped down his cheeks.

When everything was done, Victor came back into view. “Thanks, mate, for everything today,” Killian told him, suddenly aware of how drained he was. “We owe you.”

“Your insurance company owes me; your thanks are all I need from you. And maybe for you guys to be less stubborn.”

“No promises there,” he quipped back.

“I know. But can you do one thing for me?”

“What’s that?”

“Next time you guys get knocked up, maybe spread it out a bit?”

Laughing hurt, but he couldn’t help it. “We’ll see.”

* * *

Regina was still in the room when Robin came back. “Well?” she asked, on her feet immediately.

“It’s a girl,” he answered, smiling sleepily.

Regina grinned back. “Oh, that’s perfect. How’s Killian?”

“He’ll be back in a bit, and he’ll be able to answer better than I can. But if it was anything like me a few hours ago, then he probably won’t know either.”

“That makes sense,” she replied. “And your beautiful son is just fine.”

“Good,” he sighed as he was helped back into the bed, then asked one of the nurses, “When can I see him again?”

“We’ll have both babies moved in here soon,” she promised. “Rest up first, though.”

But he didn’t want to; he wanted to hold his babies close and learn everything about them.

“Listen to her,” Regina warned him, fully aware of how his mind worked. “Go to sleep; I’ll keep an eye on everything.”

“Wake me when Killian’s back,” he said, but sleep quickly claimed him.

* * *

Killian didn’t remember much once the doctor had cleared him; he must have passed out on the way back to their room. But when he finally came to, it was to a whimpering baby and someone squeezing his hand.

He blearily blinked his eyes and looked around at the unfamiliar walls, and then the last day or so slammed into him: they were parents now.

The first place he looked was at his hand; Robin’s was holding it. Someone had shoved their beds together when he got back in the room, apparently, and lowered the rails that would otherwise separate them. He suspected it was Regina, presently asleep on the room’s couch.

He followed the arm up to look over at Robin, who had the fussing babe in his other arm—their son, judging from the blue hat and the bit of hair sticking out from under it. Robin was talking to the boy with the happiest, softest expression, and he was sure he’d never seen anything more perfect.

Until a second tiny voice rang out in the room, from Killian’s other side; his little girl lay there in a clear plastic bassinet, and some foreign instinct told him she was feeling left out.

“Don’t worry, little one—Papa is here,” he murmured, letting go of Robin’s hand and reaching for her, carefully scooping her out of the crib and bringing her close to his chest. She quieted almost instantly and started gazing around the room from under the brim of the pink hat that matched her brother’s.

“Good morning, darlings,” Robin said from his side of everything. “How do you feel?”

“Better than ever,” Killian said, surprised at how watery his voice was. Apparently, his emotions were still ready to swing on a whim. 

“Really? Because I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck,” Robin quipped, but was staring at him and smiling when Killian finally took his gaze off his—no, their—daughter.

“Well, yes, there’s that. But when I look at these faces, I don’t really mind.”

“No, I can’t say I do.”

They settled into a peaceful quiet for a while, just studying the babe in their arms, and then finally swapping. Holding his son for the first time was almost as emotional as with his daughter—he was so different, yet he could see some of the similarities. And oh, he was so perfect.

“She’s so perfect,” Robin echoed. “I still can’t believe they’re ours.”

“Same,” Killian said, completely entranced. When he finally managed to take his eyes off the sweet boy, it was only to watch Robin with their daughter—but Robin was doing the same thing.

Their eyes met, and they chuckled a little, but there was only one thing Killian could think of to say at that moment.

“I love you.”

* * *

Robin’s heart stuttered for the millionth time in the last day. He knew Killian loved him—he’d shown it a million times over in the past hours, weeks, months. But to hear it was something special.

“I love you, too.”

Killian let out a half-smile, half sob at that, and reached for Robin’s hand, tugging it to his lips to press a kiss on it. Robin pulled back their joined hands to do the same, not trusting his sore abs to move the distance to Killian’s face—especially not with such precious cargo between them.

“I tried to tell you earlier,” Killian started.

“Me, too. But then someone had to get dramatic and go into labor.”

Killian rolled his eyes. “As if I could control it.”

“See, I’m not so sure,” Robin continued to tease, and would have more if Victor hadn’t come in, waking Regina in the process.

He quickly examined them and the babies, confirming that everything was going well. “Now, if I recall, there was one more competition you two had—biggest baby?”

“Aye,” Killian confirmed.

“Spit it out, mate.”

“First: names?” he asked, gesturing between the infants.

Robin and Killian met the other’s gaze again and nodded. They’d picked out front-runner names before all this, so they knew exactly what to say. 

“This one,” Killian introduced, “is Roland Liam.”

“And I’ve got Alice Regina.”

Victor gave them a rare genuine smile, then turned to Regina, who was smiling through tears; they hadn’t told her about the names yet, and that reaction was exactly why. “Where does the betting pool stand on weight?” Victor asked her.

“Robin has the edge, but not by much,” she said, sniffling.

Victor nodded, and then gave the stats. “Roland Liam: 7 pounds, 10 ounces; 20 inches long.” He placed an updated label on the empty crib before walking over to the other one. “And Alice Regina: same length, but...7 pounds, 14 ounces.”

“Yes!” Killian shouted quietly, gently pumping his fist. “I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Robin waved off, but he didn’t truly care as long as they were both healthy, which they were.

Victor left, followed shortly by Regina, leaving the family of four alone again. 

“So this is it?” Killian wondered. “The start of our own happily ever after?”

“More like the start of our own adventure,” Robin decided. 

“I like that,” Killian said, smiling. “It’s certainly been one already.”

“And to think: all because we couldn’t just say that we liked each other.”

“Honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me either.”

No one could possibly discount their feelings for one another now—all they’d done was grow, and surely would continue to as their children did, too.

Killian loved Robin. Robin loved Killian. They both loved their babies. And they wanted everyone to know.


End file.
